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• 人生如一朵浮云

  2007-4-03

  

  I've opened the curtain of my east window here above the computer, and I sit now in a holy theater before a sky-blue stage. A little cloud above the neighbor's trees resembles Jimmy Durante's nose for a while, then becomes amorphous as it slips on north. Other clouds follow, big and little and tiny on their march toward whereness. Wisps of them lead or droop because there must always be leading and drooping.
  
  The trees seem to laugh at the clouds while yet reaching for them with swaying branches. Trees must think that they are real, rooted, somebody, and that perhaps the clouds are only tickled water which sometimes blocks their sun. But trees are clouds, too, of green leaves-clouds that only move a little. Trees grow and change and dissipate like their airborne cousins.
  
  And what am I but a cloud of thoughts and feelings and aspirations? Don't I put out tentative mists here and there? Don't I occasionally appear to other people as a ridiculous shape of thoughts without my intending to? Don't I drift toward the north when I feel the breezes of love and the warmth of compassion?
  
  If clouds are beings, and beings are clouds, are we not all well advised to drift, to feel the wind tucking us in here and plucking us out there? Are we such rock-hard bodily lumps as we imagine?
  
  Drift, let me. Sing to the sky, will I. One in many, are we. Let us breathe the breeze and find therein our roots in the spirit.
  
  I close the curtain now, feeling broader, fresher. The act is over. Applause is sweeping through the trees.
  

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• 美文

  2007-4-03

  很多年前，一个农场主在大西洋沿岸有一块土地，他经常贴广告雇佣人手。可是，很多人都不愿意在大西洋岸边的农场干活，他们害怕大西洋上空剧烈的风暴会破坏房屋和庄稼。所以当这个农场主招工面试时，得到的都是否定的答案……直到一个矮小瘦弱的男人出现……
  
  Years ago a farmer owned land along the Atlantic seacoast. He constantly advertised for hired hands. Most people were reluctant to work on farms along the Atlantic. They dreaded the awful storms that raged across the Atlantic, wreaking havoc on the buildings and crops. As the farmer interviewed applicants for the job, he received a steady stream of refusals.
  
  Finally, a short, thin man, well past middle age, approached the farmer. "Are you a good farmhand?" the farmer asked him.
  
  "Well, I can sleep when the wind blows," answered the little man.
  
  Although puzzled by this answer, the farmer, desperate for help, hired him. The little man worked well around the farm, busy from dawn to dusk, and the farmer felt satisfied with the man's work.
  
  Then one night the wind howled loudly in from offshore. Jumping out of bed, the farmer grabbed a lantern and rushed next door to the hired hand's sleeping quarters. He shook the little man and yelled, "Get up! A storm is coming! Tie things down before they blow away!"
  
  The little man rolled over in bed and said firmly, "No sir. I told you, I can sleep when the wind blows."
  
  Enraged by the response, the farmer was tempted to fire him on the spot. Instead, he hurried outside to prepare for the storm. To his amazement, he discovered that all of the haystacks had been covered with tarpaulins. The cows were in the barn, the chickens were in the coops, and the doors were barred. The shutters were tightly secured. Everything was tied down. Nothing could blow away.
  
  The farmer then understood what his hired hand meant, so he returned to his bed to also sleep while the wind blew.
   

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• The first diary

  2007-4-01

         The first English diary!  It seems quite cool.HaHa

         From now on ,I will write diaries in English, and I can make friends.

         I am not familiar with making and decorating my space,so I can learn much.

         What's more , it is a useful way for me to developing my English ability.

          

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